


As Dawn Breaks

by darwinning



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Multi, Pre-Relationship, hopefully, i guess, kingdoms AU, with like a touch of fantasy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 03:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3963547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darwinning/pseuds/darwinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jade dreams of death. If it has taught her anything, it is that somethings are unavoidable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Dawn Breaks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BigRedLittleWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigRedLittleWolf/gifts).



> Hi! Sorry if this isn't quite what you had in mind! I didn't quite make it to the Ot4, but I hope it's still okay. I might come back to the universe, your prompts were really fun, but we'll see. Happy betapalooza!

These are the things you remember: the feeling of wind through your hair, a flash of white teeth in a crooked mouth, the hot sun over hotter sand, a pair of bright eyes and a spray of golden hair, salt water pebbling over skin that feels just a little too tight over your bones. The cold stone of your bedroom floor. The sound of waves that lull you to sleep. A heartbeat that counts out a steady drum. Bec’s warmth against your back and his heavy snores. Harleys are not afraid, Harleys are victorious, Harleys must be strong. These are the things you remember, because what do you have if you don’t that this?

***

Your grandfather is going to die on a night without a moon. You know this, you have always known this, from the first time the clouds parted and showed you just how small the universe really is. It had been three weeks after your fourth birthday, one moment your grandfather was reading you a bedtime story and the next he was on the floor with a hole in his head beneath a cold sky. You started screaming, and even when the vision faded, you couldn’t stop. When the crowd of servants and doctors rushed in, it became clear that the visions were not going to end, that every new face you saw lead to another scene of sorrow and death.

It was three days later that you were moved out of your castle, out of the room with the big windows and the bed high enough to escape every monster, to a small island thirty miles off the southern coast. (You never thought the princess in the tower would be you.)

Your grandfather visits when he can, you know that, but that is still not often. His is the only face allowed within touching distance of you, so every new moon you sit with your hands shaking just a little bit as you wait for the ferryman across the water to fire the blue flare into the air.  _Day break has come_ , says the blue flare,  _day break has come and your King still breaths._  For thirteen years, blue light has signaled that you can go to bed, that everything is going to be alright for twenty eight more days. But if your life has taught you anything, it is that somethings are unavoidable.

***

Your grandfather leaves you pages and pages of instructions and details, notes about economics and land divisions and taxes and laws. With each of his visits he drills facts and figures into your head, pulls portraits of important people from his bag and make you memorize the faces of people you never met. You have dreams, sometimes, of people and places you have never encountered, and you write them down with care, in a small notebook that you keep on the bedside table. Your grandfather picks each of them apart. They are seldom happy visions, but they are the only times you see other people without death getting in the way. They teach you what your grandfather can’t, about expressions and despair and what men can be driven to do, when they don’t know what it is that should be done. So when your grandfather’s head advisors arrive the day after the blue light that didn’t come, you are ready. There is a dress in your closet that was made from gold thread and heavy fabric, so different from the linen frocks and loose pants of the island, and this is what you wear to meet them, back straight and face forward, one hand gripping the fur on Bec’s back.

Harleys are not afraid, Harleys are victorious, Harleys must be strong. Which is why you do not flinch when the man on the right takes your hand and all you see is blood, when the man in the middle offers the arm you know will one day be cut off. But even Harleys can feel uncertain, and you cannot help the feeling when the man on the left, standing a little behind the other two and clearly not one of them, offers you a smile and all you see is white teeth in a crooked mouth.

***

His name is Dave Strider, you learn, a knight only a few years older than yourself. His older brother was the King’s Champion, and you remember that face less because of its portrait and more for the soft look in you grandfather’s eyes when he showed it to you. The younger Strider has only been a knight for a few years, but he has proven himself, the advisors tell you. You settle into court as well as you are able too, staring resolute at the sea of unfamiliar faces. You pretend not to hear the whispers around you, the rumors of illegitimacy, of scandal, of shame. The child of the king’s only son, but no one knows who your mother is, not even you. There are few here who remember when you lived at court, and even fewer that you in turn remember. Only the King’s Champion knows the real reason you were taken away, and are you stare into eyes hidden behind dark glass, you hope he has not told.

***

Being Queen is not something that lessons could have ever prepared you for.

The first time you enter your grandfather’s chambers, three days after the coronation that made them yours, is the first time that you have ever truly felt despair. For all of the things you have learned, there are so many things you do not know.

You can deal with the numbers and the science, the rules and the laws, but the people still scare you. The visions have faded, at least, the dwindling number of new people you meet keeping the flashes short and fragmented, though you keep a very carefully coded journal of all the deaths you’ve seen. But there is something about how people smile at you that chills faster than any vision. You have seen people at their worst, in their most human moments, and you had not realized how strong the smiles that hide razor teeth can be. The last King’s Champion has not returned to court, a slight you ignore because you know it is not intentional, and crooked mouth’s is the only smile that does not make you wince.

You have not found your grandfather’s killer, though he has not tried again.

***

It is on day 134 of your rule that someone first brings up the idea of marriage. You hear the quiet creak of leather as Dave’s hand tightens around the hilt of the sword at his side. You take a deep breath.

“Did you have someone in mind?”

***

His name is John, he is the heir to the kingdom adjacent to yours in the west, and you are actually second cousins. Your kingdom has suffered with the loss of its king, not as much as it might have without your grandfather’s careful teachings, but kingdoms rarely manage with loss of a ruling monarch unscathed. Joining together would be a good thing. Your advisors spend days discussing the possible repercussions, mapping out the agreement and the advantages, the different things that could go wrong and how much you stand to lose if you don’t agree.

But it is not until Dave, walking besides you during your evening walk through the massive gardens, tells you that his half sister has been at John’s court for years, that he has met the king-to-be, that Dave trusts him and believes him to be a good man, that the snake coiled around your heart loosens its grip. You don’t know if you can trust Dave, don’t know if you should, still can’t see his future, but, gods, how you want to.

John is supposed to arrive on the winter solstice, on day 257 of your rule.

***

It is on day 201 that the first assassination attempt occurs.

You have just sat down for breakfast in the absurdly large dining room, the one with large windows facing the ocean. You are alone in the room except for Sarah, your favorite of all the maids, who is serving. She has just gone to fetch another glass of water for you when she stops.

She just stops.

You have no idea how it happens, but one moment she was walking, and another she’s stopped, one foot still raised in the doorway, a hand in her long skirt. You realize with a rush of fear that there is no sound from outside either. For the first time, the ever present noise of the surf has quieted.

You are halfway out of your seat when Dave bursts through the far door. He is panting, red in the face and looking so absolutely absurd that you cannot help a startled laugh. He starts, raising his sword in one hand.

“What the fuck?” he says.

“Excuse me?” you say. You stare at him. This is not the voice of the detached and courteous knight that has been your companion these past few months. You remember, for the first time since meeting him, that Dave is hardly older than you are.

“I—er—you—” This is also the first time you have ever seen him speechless. His arm, still raised, sword in hand, lowers to rest at his side, the tip of the blade falling to point at your feet. Behind you, you can hear Sarah leave the room, and the waves roar back to life. Dave grabs your arm and drags you two steps to the right, just as three arrows hit the back of your chair hard enough to push all the way through.

You gape at the chair, at the unblemished wall where the arrows had come from, and then at Dave, who is still staring at you. “How did you—?”

“You have magic?” he blurts, looking completely lost. He rubs the back of his hand across his forehead, looking up at the ceiling as though talking to someone far away. “Jesus, bro, that would have been nice to know…”

You can feel your expression cool, and you give him the hardest look you can manage. “You need to tell me everything.”

***

First of all, Dave does not actually have any magic of his own. His abilities, which include slowing down time or making himself move faster, come from his sword. His only real power, he explains, is that he was “chosen” to wield it (he also mentions something about archetypes and irony, but those are words you choose to think about at another time). The sword, Caledfwlch, cannot be used by anyone else, and will somehow always return to Dave’s sheath.

“Is that why I can’t see you?” you ask, picking at the embroidery on the wide skirt of your gown. You see, just for a moment, a flash of worn fabric and loose thread, the familiar color from another life, but you push it out of your mind.

Dave nods. “I don’t think magic really works on other people with magic. Not reliably, at least. I stopped time in order to get to you, but…well, it’s more like I slowed the world down so that it would seem like I was moving faster, but you didn’t get slowed down.”

“Do you know many other people who can—who can do what we can?”

Dave hesitates. “Only two, really. There have been a couple others that I suspected, but they never seemed all that effected when I did something so I can’t really say.” He doesn’t continue, but you think of thirteen lonely years, the cold stone beneath your feet, how salt water feels on your bare skin, and you have to know.

“Who are the two?” you press, leaning forward.

He looks down a moment, taking off his dark glasses and staring you in the eye. It is the first time you’ve seen him without them. His eyes are a deep, startling red.

“My sister’s one of them. She’s got a way with a needle and thread that—well, she can do some crazy stuff, basically. And John, the soon to be visiting prince, the one you’re supposed to be marrying, is the other.”

***

Leaving your island opened your world in ways you never thought possible. Learning the truth about Dave does the same . You still spend your days with your advisors, going over treaties and laws and preparing for the wedding. But your nights are spent in research, reading rumors and legends about your powers, looking for other people with similar abilities. Dave admits that he does not know all that much about it, but his sister actually had a teacher when she was younger, and is probably the most knowledgeable.

“You can ask her when she gets here,” he says, rapping his knuckles against the book on astral projection you have open. “She’s got a couple favorite books too, that she’s collected over the years, or ones that were… presents.”

You just hum in response. Rose’s teacher is a subject you have asked about, but Dave has always said that it is her story to tell. It’s not your favorite answer, but its something you can respect.

“Dave?” you say after a few minutes of silence have passed. He looks up. “If…if you and your sister both have these…powers, I guess, then, what…what about your brother?”

Dave’s face does not move, but his shoulders tighten the smallest amount. You have been queen for nearly a year, and yet the oldest Strider has yet to return. There have been murmurings in the court, and indeed, you too would be suspicious, were it not for your own speculations about what kept him away. You know nothing as a certainty, but if he had half the relationship you suspect he did with your grandfather then, well…you yourself had trouble looking at the crown on your head in the mirror.

“I don’t actually know,” Dave finally says, sagging just a little in his seat. “He’s, well, he’s fifteen years older than me, and he’s never been, you know, exactly talkative. More of a shoot first ask later kind of guy. But he had some creepy hobbies, so there was probably something up with him.” Dave finishes with a carefully careless half-shrug, and you don’t push, leaning back into your chair and turning a page.

It’s been weeks since Dave took off his glasses for you, and he hasn’t worn them when its just the two of you since. Seeing those eyes makes you want, the same way the blue flares did, the way watching your grandfather sail back across the water did, but you don’t have time to understand what it is, exactly, that you want, so you try not to think about it.

***

Before you are ready, the winter solstice is upon you. John arrives with all the purposefully impressive fanfare of royalty. His entourage intimidates you just a little bit, but when he exits his royal carriage, he offers such a goofy smile that you can’t help smile back. Behind him, a delicate figure in a dark dress steps down to the ground, and the flash of gold hair makes your breath catch in your throat. John kisses the back of your hand, his blue eyes bright, and Rose gives a curtsy, and the rest of the day flies by in a rush of gold and blue and red.

***

Later that evening, you take a breather from the welcoming ball on the balcony. The ball, glitzy and theatrical, is everything it needed to be to welcome the man who very well may be your husband, but even after nine months in the royal court, these things still feel a little overwhelming.

“Your highness,” says Rose, standing in the doorway behind you. Only nine months ago, you would have jumped. Now, however, you simply turn around slowly.

Rose is everything you expected and yet nothing like you expected at the same time. She is small and delicately built, with almost a girlish figure, but she is also graceful in a way you only see in Dave when he is practicing his swordsmanship. Her gown is simply cut in a gorgeous deep purple, and as she walks, you can see the large needles she keeps hung from her waist, mostly hidden in the folds of her skirt.

“Jade is fine,” you say in as polite a tone as you can manage. Rose’s dark painted lips curve into a smile.

“Jade, then,” she comes to stand next to you, and for a moment you both stare out over the city and to the ocean beyond. You can’t see it, not with the fog, but you know your island is out there somewhere.

“I grew up in this court,” she says. “You probably don’t remember, you were so young, but you and I, we used to play together.”

You press your lips together, squinting slightly into the darkness. If you try, you can just make out a distant memory of gold hair and a black cat.

“You left a couple weeks before I did,” you say after a moment. “On your seventh birthday, you left to study with a special teacher.”

Rose smiles again, but this one seems less genuine. “Yes. Scratch, was his name. But that’s a story for another time. My brother tells me that you’ve been searching for your grandfather’s, god rest his soul, murderer?”

You stare at her, but she seems to want an answer. “Yes, I am, and if there is anything you know about that—”

“I’m afraid I have nothing definite, but before I left the court, the king, your grandfather, I mean, gave me a parcel. He told me to bring it to you when you returned from your island.”

You stare at her. “But how is that possible? I didn’t move to that island until after you were gone.”

Rose shakes her head, and wordlessly offers you a small carved box, about the span of your hand wide and just as deep. You pry the lid off.

“I’ll just go back in,” says Rose, backing away.

“No! I mean, I mean, you’ve held on to it for so long,” you say, feeling breathless. You seat yourself on one of the stone benches lining the balcony. “Would you not like to see what is inside?”

Rose stares at you for a moment, before slowly coming towards you and sitting down.

***

The box contains a small book, a gold ring, a tiny portrait, and a metal seal. The book, you quickly realize, is a journal of some sort, its pages filled with the careful writing of your grandfather. You put it aside for further inspection at a later date. The gold ring seems ordinary enough, with nothing happening when either you or Rose tries it on. The metal seal carries the image of some sort of house, made of blocky shapes. The words on it are too faint to make out.

“I believe this is a portrait of my great-grandmother,” you say, holding up the tiny likeness. It shows a woman with long dark hair and a golden tiara. “But it is not possible that she should have something to do with it. By all accounts, even were she still alive, she would be unspeakably old.”

Rose looks thoughtful. “Perhaps,” she says, “but then, there have always been odd stories about your great-grandmother. Her Imperial Condescension was a terrifying woman.”

***

Rose and you return to the party soon after that. You dance with nearly everyone, including Dave and the newly arrived heir, John. During your dance with Dave, you fill him in on what you and Rose have discussed. Dancing with John, though, is a breathless affair. He smiles so brightly at you and dances with such unashamed gusto that you spend half your time together twirling or laughing.

***

That night, you dream for the first time since you left the island. Your dream, usually just a shade brighter than the blood and gore you see during your waking hours, is of a small garden clearing, glowing with sunshine and surrounded by flowers. You see yourself, and Rose and John and a glasses-less Dave, tangled together on a blanket. Your fingers are tangled through Rose’s, your foot wedged behind Dave’s knee. Your head lies on John’s strong chest, and you can hear the steady drum of his heartbeat.

You wake to find an empty bed and tears on your face. Your room, large and empty, makes you feel small. Your grandfather’s book lies on the bed besides you, its pages made incomprehensible by an absolutely vexing code. Something heavy sits in your chest, as though Bec was resting his head on your stomach as he did when you were a child. You have never been able to chose your visions, to chose what you were made to see. There are so many things that you do not know, so many more important questions that still need to be answered. But if there is one thing that these dreams have taught you, it is that somethings are unavoidable. Somethings demand to be heard. Your heartbeat feels too fast beneath your nightgown, but that can’t be helped. Somewhere in your castle, two men and a woman sleep, three people who seem to be here for you. You think of the warmth of the sun against your skin, the salt that makes your skin feel tight. John would like the island, you think, maybe they all would.

You do not know if you will be victorious, you do not yet know what it really means to be strong, but for the first time, something inside of you whispers that you are not afraid.

 


End file.
